


Present

by DrPearlGatsby



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben is top of his class, Coffee Shop, F/M, Law School, Rey is a barista, Reylo Week 2020, drabble-ish, mostly just a meet cute, the belonging you seek, they're at a fancy party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23978779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrPearlGatsby/pseuds/DrPearlGatsby
Summary: Finn had insisted on bringing her, wearing her down by reminding her Rose had already agreed to be Poe’s plus-one. But after all the awards and speeches were done—after Finn and Poe had received awards for moot court, for law journal, for a number of other things she doesn’t remember—she’d never been more ready to get some fresh air. The afterparty and cocktail reception are held on the top floor of the venue, the dimmed lights and loud music of the dance floor spilling out onto the rooftop; and Rey grabs a flute of champagne and makes for the exit before Rose or Finn can stop her.(In which Rey learns to trust the present and Ben Organa-Solo is very much his father's son.)
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 16
Kudos: 73
Collections: REYLO WEEK 2020





	Present

**Author's Note:**

> A one-shot for the sixth day of Reylo Week 2020 to fill the prompt Past/Present/Future. (Maybe we're supposed to pick one, and yes, the title is "Present," but for Rey I feel like it's really all of them at once.)

Rey feels like a phony at the classy banquet—she’s told Finn at least seventeen times since he dragged her out the door. Sure, she looks the part: Rose helped her do her makeup, giving her the perfect smoky eye and making sure her lipstick was flawless, and her one formal dress is vintage enough to look in-style: the bright red, straight-cut satin with spaghetti straps she’d splurged on at Goodwill is at home with all the 90’s-inspired looks that Finn and Poe’s female classmates are sporting.

And sure, the food was delicious, and she should be grateful for that alone. Finn had insisted on bringing her, wearing her down by reminding her Rose had already agreed to be Poe’s plus-one. But after all the awards and speeches were done—after Finn and Poe had received awards for moot court, for law journal, for a number of other things she doesn’t remember—she’d never been more ready to get some fresh air. The afterparty and cocktail reception are held on the top floor of the venue, the dimmed lights and loud music of the dance floor spilling out onto the rooftop; and Rey grabs a flute of champagne and makes for the exit before Rose or Finn can stop her.

It’s not that she’s not proud of Finn and Poe finishing law school. Finn, an orphan like herself, had worked so hard to get to this point, to reach this dream; and Poe has his moments as a good roommate and human being, even when he’s being annoying as hell. But around their classmates, they seem so capable and professional, a real power couple. They have not two, not four, but _six_ degrees between them—undergrads, masters’, and now their law degrees—and Rey has a GED and a full-time job as a barista at Rebel Coffee.

As she weaves through the crowd she can’t help but overhear the 3L class bragging about clerking and partnerships and joining their parents’ practices, and it only makes her regret the makeup and the loud dress. She’s served most of them—if not all of them—at one time or another, drizzled caramel on their macchiato or arranged their slice of blueberry pound cake on two napkins or poured a foam design onto their chai latte; and as she skirts around them she sees several people notice her, a spark of recognition showing on their faces before they turn away. They’re all too smart, too important to talk to Rey the nobody, which both stings and makes her want to punch someone. With her head down, she can’t help but notice how at least a third of the women are wearing heels with those telltale red-bottom Louboutins. _Ugh_.

Finally she reaches the edge of the roof, resting her elbows on the wall and sipping at her champagne. It’s not much of a view—not like photos she’s seen of New York or Chicago—but it’s the home she found, the home she’d chosen. It’s enough.

Out of the corner of her eye she notices someone else several feet away standing at the wall and looking out at the city—she turns her head to see and is somewhat surprised to see it’s _him_ , the tall, dark-haired, stupid-handsome Rebel Coffee regular who was recognized only half an hour ago as top of his class. Rey knows his name is Benjamin Organa-Solo because he always orders coffee from the mobile app, preferring slipping in the door and claiming a table immediately to waiting in line. Sometimes he takes it to go, sometimes he orders a pastry or a sandwich; always he gives a generous tip; and not once has she ever heard him speak. Four times she’s made eye contact with him, her efforts paying off for a split second here or there in the middle of the 3:00 rush when the students from the high school across the street descend. He looks gorgeous in his suit and tie, every bit as serious as the days she’s observed him poring over textbooks or typing furiously on his laptop.

He glances her way, then; but unlike everyone else on the rooftop he inclines his head to her in greeting. Rey feels her cheeks flush but raises her champagne flute at him, and then he is sidestepping groups of his classmates to stand beside her.

“You work at Rebel,” he says by way of greeting. His voice is lovely and deep and Rey keeps a hand on the wall to steady herself.

“And you always use the mobile app,” Rey acknowledges. “You’re Benjamin—”

He chuckles a little. “Ben, please.”

“—and I’m Rey.”

“Rey.” He repeats her name and sips at his drink, something that looks like liquor. “Who are you here with?”

“My roommates. Finn Storm and Poe Dameron?”

“I know Poe,” Ben says as he takes another drink, his voice less than enthusiastic.

It makes Rey laugh. “Sounds like it. He has that effect on most people, yeah?”

It’s Ben’s turn to laugh, and Rey savors it—he way his eyes crinkle, the way a smile transforms his face. The man is absolutely gorgeous. She’s desperate not to let their conversation end so soon, so she says the first stupid thing that comes into her mind: “So. Law school, huh?”

“You thinking of going?” Ben raises an eyebrow at her.

“Not… particularly.”

“Good choice. Hell of a bad decision—possibly my worst, and I _have_ made a lot of bad decisions.”

“Yeah?”

They’re momentarily distracted when a group of Ben’s classmates ask him to take their group picture. Rey shrinks back as much as she can without actually moving away from Ben, watching as all his perfectly-groomed classmates sling their arms around each other and flash identical smiles of straight, chemical-whitened teeth. “Say… _law school_!” their ringleader shouts before Ben can even count down to take the picture. When he’s returned the phone to them, he catches Rey’s eye and nods in their direction. “The company’s not always that bad; usually it’s much worse. I stand by what I said.”

Rey winces a little but can’t help leaning in _just_ a bit closer. He smells amazing—like musky cologne and evergreen soap—and there’s a look in his eyes that makes her feel like she can trust him. It’s surreal; Rey knows she has issues trusting people, and she hasn’t felt this kind of a connection to anyone, not even Finn, who is the closest she’ll ever get to having a brother. _Don’t be_ silly, she scolds herself. _It’s just a crush_.

But then Ben leans in a little closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially, and says, “How about we get out of here, go get a milkshake or something?”

Rey gets hit on sometimes at Rebel. This isn’t like that. Instead of setting off warning bells, her intuition is doing a quieter thing, unfolding like a flower in the center of her chest, like some sort of ineffable peace. She feels a breath of a breeze whispering past her shoulder, the slight coolness of the champagne flute in her hand, the rough concrete wall where her arm rests against it, still warm from a day of direct sun. _Remember this moment_ , the universe seems to be telling her. _This is it. This is a beginning_.

Rey grins. “Sounds perfect.”


End file.
